Parker does the Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy....

I haven’t written a blog entry in forever partly because my job has sucked all of the funny out of me (seriously sometimes I feel like I work in a morgue), but also because I have been forcing myself to do extracurricular activities. I never did anything extracurricular in High School - but at 41 I figure its never to late to start.

One of my good and few friends talked me into taking and adult tap class. When she brought this idea up to me I immediately had a flashback to my mom dragging me to beauty contests as a kid and repeatedly telling me “What are we going to do? You are pretty enough but you have “no” talent to speak of”. What? Roller skating, climbing trees, dismembering Barbie dolls and sneaking smokes and my dads' Heinekens in the backyard aren’t talents?, I thought at the ripe age of 8.

Nancy quickly enrolled me in tap class and my routine was Yankee Doodle Dandy. I wore a satin American flag jumpsuit that did nothing for my serious toothpick legs. My brother later in life told me that I would stare blankly into the spot light and flail my arms like a wild chicken and tap in some insane manner until the song ended. Luckily I remember none of this clearly horrible childhood episode.

I hadn’t put on tap shoes since I was 8, but I thought what the hell, something different - I'll go for it. Unfortunately my friend suggested intermediate tap. Although I fought for beginners, she thought it would be too basic. The first class were all students that had already taken the beginning class and they showed up with canes and hats. I literally gave my friend the "Look of Death." The class of "experts" then proceeded to show us the "Puttin on the Ritz" routine they had learned the previous season. Once more, I flashed "the Look of Death."

I somehow managed to tap my way through 8 embarrassing weeks and on Monday night we had our "Come See" show.  Although I invited my family, Nancy told me her TiVo was not working and she couldn't miss "24". Thanks mom.  DW however, was very proud and my teacher said it was my best performance and that I worked really well under pressure. That probably couldn't be more true given my job.

Below is the fruits of my labor. Enjoy...

Chef Boy-R-You A Jackass

I'm A BIG JACKASS!!!!!

So you may or may not have heard this story about chef Juan Carlos-Cruz (aka The Calorie Commando) who was recently arrested after plotting to kill his wife. Personally, because my cooking capacity goes no further than Taco Night and a mean Kraft Macaroni and Cheese - I had never heard of the "Calorie Commando" (also, counting calories has never been my thing). Apparently this dude has (or had) a show on the food network (I really need to defer to Parker on this one as she is the real "foodie" in this friendship). However, when you live in Southern California, the news revolves around 1) live car chases 2) celebrity gossip and 3) wife-killing plots. So naturally I can't escape this story.

According to several Los Angeles news sources, Calorie Commando (who I have aptly nicknamed "Chef Boy-R-You a Jackass") approached a few local homeless dudes, and offered them a whopping $1000 to slash his wife's throat with a box cutter. I guess he didn't want to part with his prized chef's cleaver. The kicker is that he gave the homeless guy $500 up front and showed him a photo of the remaining $500 he'd get after the job was done. Everyone knows that if you show someone a photo of money it means you are good for it. He also provided the homeless man with a pre-paid cellphone  - did he at least cook up some low-calorie Carne Asada burritos for the dude?

Needless to say, Chef Dum Dum got caught and he is now claiming that his wife had been despondent for years over her infertility and he was only fulfilling her suicidal wishes and was going to kill himself after her murder. Because that always-convincing "Romeo and Juliet" defense works every time! Personally, I get a little depressed now and then, but that doesn't mean I want my husband to hire a toothless smelly dude to slice my neck with a box cutter. Wouldn't the whopping $1000 be better put to use on a therapist for your sad wife, or maybe a cheap divorce lawyer?

Needless to say the "Calorie Commando" is going to have a lot of time contemplating his stupidity while his jailhouse roommate, the "Butthole Commando" goes to town on his low-calorie ass.

Senility...it's just a matter of time!

Yesterday, I accidentally brushed my teeth with my daughter's tube of Clearasil. 'nuff said!

Elegance is Luhnnned.....(and my ear drums are burned)

I haven't had time to blog much lately, which begs the question: When did I get so busy? I used to have nothing but time on my hands but lately it seems like I am always on the go (I sound like I should be in a maxi-pad commercial when I say that). Another reason however, might be attributed to the fact that as Parker and I get older, we've both noticed that we have less time and patience for celebrity gossip, pop culture and reality television. Try as I might, American Idol, America's Next Top Model, Amazing Race, Project Runway and the Real Housewives of anywhere just don't give me the thrill that they once used to. (Similar to a junkie who is always looking for that first-time-high).


This changed for a brief 50 minutes today when I caught up on last night's "Real Housewives of New York." We both agree that last night's episode was the BEST episode of any Housewives episode in all of Housewives history. Even Parker's hubby, Daddy Warbucks put down his Kindle to follow the action.


With each passing moment, just when I thought it couldn't get any worse (i.e BETTER), another scene would blow me away. Hard to pin down just what my favorite laughable moment was, but I've narrowed it down to these:


#1 - The Countess singing "Money Can't Buy you Class (Elegance is Learned)". First of all, the song should be called "Money Can't Buy you a Voice". One thing money can buy? An hour in the studio with a coked-out producer kissing your ass and telling you that you are a superstar and comparing you to Madonna and Fergie. Hell, even when they dubbed her voice with a Casio keyboard on the "Robot Disco" setting, she still sounded like someone was pulling out her toenails.


#2 - The entire yacht party was also golden. First of all, news flash Ramona: stop acting like you are footing the bill for your pack of cougars to sail the Virgin Islands with a constant Pinot Grigio drip, when we all know that BRAVO footed the bill. And it was worth every penny Bravo, cause those bitches are entertaining! Kelly really impressed me with her witty comebacks like trying to cut the gossiping by declaring that they are all "Making lemons into lemonade" and then storming off only to get  stumped by that trick electronic sliding yacht door. She makes the other housewives look like female Stephen Hawkings.


#3 -Ramona guzzling a gallon of Pinot Grigio and hopping over to the Hooter's yacht. Watching this makes me realize that there is nothing more pathetic than a wined-up 50 year old. Note to self- next time I'm out on the town, keep my wine consumption down to to a minimum. I also loved watching wasted Ramona dance at that Turtle bar in a sea of laser beams. God I hope when she watched that back she drowned in a sea of humiliation.


#4 -The coup de gras, however might be the Countess' new uber-creepy boyfriend. Seriously, if I saw him across the room at a party, my inner-voice would tell me to run (not walk) to the nearest exit and then continue to run for at least 6 miles. He is a cross between Dudley Moore (in the 70's) and a director of Porn Films. I'm pretty sure he had just taken a boatload of ecstasy too.


You gotta give credit to Bethenny who had some pretty good one-liners. And I can't neglect to mention Alex's amazing jean shorts, with matching jean vest - the perfect attire for boarding a yacht in the Carribean. It says "Sure I'm elegant, but I also like to party. Where's the beer bong?" Who says Elegance Is Learned? 


For those of you who missed it, here's an incredible clip which shows "Highlights" (i.e. Lowlights) of the show:

Why is it?......(i.e. my gripes of the week)

• Why is it that I finally get a chance to take a nap at the exact same moment that every 10 year old boy in my neighborhood decides to play basketball outside my window for an hour straight,  screaming louder then if they were at an actual Lakers game and repeatedly yelling "Nothing But The Net!"?
• Why is it that despite having a garage sale two weeks ago, my garage has miraculously turned into an exact replica of Fred Sanford's scrapyard? (Sorry Dad! Yes, my 70-year old father reads the blog and when in town he always cleans my filthy garage!)
• Why is it that I've NEVER seen "Toddler's & Tiaras" until tonight? Holy smokes that is one frightening show. I'm both intrigued and disgusted at the same time.
• Why is it that when I finally go to get a pedicure (3 months after the last one) I have to listen to a precocious 5-year old running around "Happy Nails" like a Banshee for an entire hour while her mom complains that Nordstrom no longer carries Ed Hardy handbags and her dad loudly makes Rodney Dangerifeld-like one liners as he walks up and down the aisle of the salon. Hey, Jack Ass - you are no David Spade and your daughter needs a muzzle! Why can't I enjoy my 15 minute foot and leg massage in Peace and read the latest People magazine without little Miss Congeniality dancing like a stripper with her newly painted green toes?

-Val

OK, I'm just gonna say it: Bret Michaels is an Attention Whore

A few weeks back I heard that Bret Michaels had an emergency appendectomy. Luckily, for strippers in small towns across the country, he survived the surgery. Two days later, he "Twittered" something along the lines of "I almost didn't make it." Call me pessimistic, but rather than feeling pity for Bret - I thought to myself "Gawd, he's totally going to milk this for all its worth."

And he probably would have, but then a week later he had a brain hemorrhage and was rushed to the hospital. While I would never mock someone who had a brain hemorrhage (I'm not the Devil after all), two things immediately came to mind: 1) If Bret Michaels passes away, I'm totally going to scoop Parker (we have a celebrity death game where the first person to get the scoop is the winner) and 2) If Bret makes it through this ordeal he is going to play it up Big Time.

A few days after he was hospitalized, his dad came forward to say "Bret is talking and doing well." Within minutes, Brett's "camp" (i.e that big Ogre bodyguard from Rock of Love) was quick to let the press know that Brett isn't out of the woods yet, and could die at any minute. 40-year old hard-living, female bartenders wept at the news.

Cut to today. I'm watching "Access Hollywood's exclusive story about Bret's "People" magazine cover (Bret is on the cover of People? Shocking, I know). They flashed one of "People's" exclusive photos of Bret unconscious in the hospital and holy shit he's wearing his Freaking Bandana.(Note: I looked high and low on the net to find this photo, but it looks like you need to purchase People to actually see it).

Now I'm no Marcus Welby M.D., but wouldn't the doctors immediately remove the bandana upon the realization that his brain was bleeding? Is that bandana welded to his head (like when fat people sit in a couch for so long that they become attached to the fabric)? My theory, of course is that the bandana caused the hemorrhage in the first place and should be removed by any means necessary. Of course we all know that will never happen. And now that Bret has had a brush with death, don't be surprised if VH1 debuts a new fall show: "Bret Michael's Bucket List." (spoiler alert, every thing on his Bucket List will involve drunken strippers). And by the way, if he wins Celebrity Apprentice, I'm going to be really pissed.